


A Little Extra Tracy

by WillowDragonCat



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other, References to Thunderbirds, Thunderbirds are Go! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowDragonCat/pseuds/WillowDragonCat
Summary: Random collection of little fics that don't fit a timeline within my stories or are just for fun.This collection was previously named Stars and Moon.My main series is Opposites Attract - Written in the Stars
Relationships: John Tracy / Selene Tempest, John Tracy/Original Characters, Tracy Family - Relationship
Comments: 24
Kudos: 26





	1. The Woman In Black

Everyone knew that Selene had a love of classic horror films, the ones that Alan said were boring and not in the least scary. The same ones that John always turned his nose up at because the special effects were non existent. Virgil liked them because they always had great music to them and Scott and Gordon just found them hilariously funny. 

But this one was different, while her favourites were made in the 1960s, she had stumbled across one that was positively modern in comparison from the 2010s. She'd put it off over and over again but if there was one thing that hanging out in a floating space station gave you it was an opportunity to watch all the movies you had previously never had time for. She had quickly run through almost all the movies on her watch list and was down to two, it was scary or the prank show Gordon had insisted she watch, so it was time to watch the scary even if that time was 3am and she couldn't sleep (not that she expected the movie to help). So there she was, camped out on one of the couches in the sunken lounge of the villa, blanket over her legs, tablet balanced on her knees, watching the movie. 

It started with three young girls happily playing tea parties in their attic play room when all of a sudden they dropped their dolls and little tea cups and as one, moved to the windows, opened them, and jumped the fuck out. 

Selene jumped in shock. "Da fuq was that about?" she yelped, eyes glued to the action which had cut to a young single father having one last chance to impress his bosses at the solicitors where he worked. He was a widow, his wife having died in childbirth and he was fast running out of money, debts mounting, he needed this job. 

The owner of a big old house had died and the young father was the one sent to go through all her papers and check the house over, looking for her most recent will, before they could sell. Seemed simple enough, but this was a spooky movie so obviously that wasn't going to go well.

He said goodbye to his son, planning on being done by the weekend when his son and the nanny would join in for a weekend in the country, all very pleasant... Selene was now quite bored after the dramatics at the start. She reached for her cup of cocoa and sipped as she watched the young father, Arthur Kipps, board the train and promptly fall asleep. Cue a dream of his late wife which shocked him enough to wake with a start. A helpful man by the name of Sam offered him a ride from the station to the guest house. 

At the guest house Arthur (whom she could see as non other than Harry Potter no matter how hard she tried) was told he didn't in fact have a room booked and must go away. Strange. But the wife of the landlord took pity on him and let him stay in the attic... The same creepy ass attic the girls had jumped from.

"No Harry! Don't sleep there!" Selene warned but of course the twat didn't listen. Though he appeared to get through the night unscathed and proceed to make his way to the creepy ass house he was looking through. 

Selene jumped and squeaked her way through his first visit when the bitch in black decided to pop her ugly ass face up now and then and waft around in the background when she shouldn't be. 

She got a major case of the sads when a kiddie died due to the black bitch and got rather indignant on Harry/Arthurs behalf when the villagers all seemed to blame him. But by the time he went back again and began to uncover some clues as to the woman in blacks identity and why she might be creeping around like a dick and scaring the shit out of people, Selene was on the edge of her seat and not in a good way. The ghost popped up, eyeballs being all weird and dodgy and it all got a bit much for Selene, though she would blame sleep deprivation from back to back rescues. 

"Expelliarmus! " she yelled, waving her wandless hand at the screen in an attempt to make the spook go away.

She might be a super tough witchy but even she wasn't good with jump scares, it was the dodgy plinky plonky music they used to fuck with your head that always got to her and after she had shrieked and almost dropped the tablet for the fourth time she paused the film and, grabbing laptop and blanket, decided her spaceman would so appreciate a late night visit from his witch. 

She padded her way down the hallway from the lounge on a hunt for her elusive man. She checked Scott's office where he was known to sometimes hang out but found it empty. The kitchen was just as deserted so she let herself outside, taking a deep breath of the cooler night air. Ahh, target spotted and locked on! He was stretched out on one of the loungers arranged around the pool, which to some would seem strange in the middle of the night, but she knew he enjoyed the quiet. Such a shame she was there to fuck that up for him. Sucked to be him right now. 

She tugged his book out of his hands without asking - he didn't need it now- put down the tablet and scooped up the cat that was curled up on his lap, dropping him unceremoniously on the floor.

"My space man." Armstrong gave an outraged meow but she nudged him aside with her foot. "Go find Alan and sleep on his face."

There went his peace and quiet. Much as he loved her she had the subtlety of a cyclone sometimes, even at half past three in the morning. How was it even possible that she was still this bouncy? He tried to catch his book as it was whipped out of his hands but missed.

"I was reading that."

The cat went next and, although he had actually been enjoying the warm weight of the purring creature on his lap, he would never admit it and therefore didn't raise a protest. 

Selene pushed his legs apart, ignoring his questioning eyebrow and settled between them. He let his feet fall to the floor, making room allowing her to wrap his arms around her middle and lean back against his chest. 

She picked up her tablet and propped it up on her knees. This wasn't going to be pleasant, he had very little faith in her viewing choices. 

"Selene, " he sighed. 

There was that tone that they all heard at least once a day, the one that said he was already done with your shit. Good job she was immune to such things. 

She wiggled to get comfy and smiled to herself. This was much better, her man would protect her from evil jumping ghost ladies that desperately needed to cleanse, tone and moisturise once in a while, he was awesome and could like…shoot it with a laser or some shit, what more could she want in a movie buddy? 

"You know I have no interest in watching this, " he protested weakly as he caught sight of the screen. 

She ignored that too, he'd like it once it got going, she was sure of it, and hit play. 

The dumbass formerly known as Harry had balls, she'd give him that, he hadn't given up and was yet again back in the house of oogie boogies with nothing but a dog for company. The story was unfolding and Selene was actually beginning to feel kind of sorry for the emo ghost, but she still didn't trust her and said as much, very vocally and frequently. 

"Don't go in there…. Shit shit shit creepy rocking chair… ahhh I fucking hate those little wind up monkeys, this, this is why kids were disturbed in the victorian times, look at the fucking toys they give them, what's wrong with the parents…" she paused her mini rant by yelping and hiding her face in John's neck when the ghost popped up again, "not cool, so not cool dude. " 

John bit his lip, refusing to laugh at her comments, it would just encourage her and honestly, she was bad enough as it was. She was so animated in everything she did, so open, honest and just full on.  
He much preferred to sit and watch in silence, but Selene was never quiet for long and with four brothers he was used to never getting his own way. It had been a busy few days and while the others had passed out early, they were both too keyed up to rest. He'd chosen the sensible option of quiet relaxation, obviously she'd had other ideas.

He made an attempt to watch the film but it was almost impossible, having missed the start and with her near constant distractions. He gave up all pretence of paying attention and simply enjoyed having her so close, tightening his arms around her middle.

Once she deemed it safe she looked up again, uncurling a little from the protective shelter of his arms and managed to sit through another five minutes without freaking out, that was until there was a massive ass house fire and Harry/Arthur's friend Sam told him a bit more about his own story, that's when she started to get defensive and head more into pissed off territory. 

"Why do you keep calling him Harry?" he asked but received no answer as she launched into another tirade. 

"What is wrong with you? Oi, ghost bitch, stop that shit! Don't make me come down there! You might be able to mess with the now non wizard but try a real witch for size."

She cheered and got a little excited when the heroes tried to help the ghost, though the bitch wasn't very appreciative and just did her banshee impression, which lead to Selene screaming back at her, as if that would actually help, making John jump in shock. How was she so loud? 

She relaxed when she thought it was all over, only to bounce back up in the last few seconds in complete outrage. "They should have called me, I'd have kicked that bitches arse in less than a day and been home in time for dinner, now look! Look at that! What the fuck was that? Fucking vengeful ghost, what's wrong with you!" She pushed the tablet aside in a huff, crossing her arms, sulk mode activated.

The chest she was leaning against was vibrating against her back as he shook in silent laughter. She turned to glare at him, which just made things worse as he lost control. 

John was laughing at her, this was unacceptable. She nipped his chin in retaliation, trying to hold in a laugh and not admit that she had been a massive wimp. 

He continued to laugh, the lines of stress and worry that had formed over the past few days vanishing smoothing out as he relaxed and let go. She smiled, glad to have helped. Even if her way had been unconventional, it had done the job. 

John hugged her tighter, his amusement fading away to leave him with quiet contentment as she placed the tablet on the ground and rested her head back onto his shoulder. High above them, a bright spot in the dark sky he could just make out his beloved craft, awaiting him, but, as was becoming more and more frequent, he didn't feel the immediate urge to return. They lay in silence for a while, watching the stars, relaxed and at peace. 

"Want to take your witchy to bed so we can get some sleep?"

He smiled, turning his head for a quick kiss. "That's an offer I would be a fool to refuse."

They gathered their things, turned off the lights and returned to the silent villa, bed calling.


	2. Well, they tried.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grandma + Selene + cooking sherry =

Selene checked the recipe again and nodded to Grandma. It couldn't be that hard could it, to be all domesticated and shit? She had many manly men that she had to cook for, not that she went in for all the "a woman's place is in the kitchen" stereotypes, but she did think it was important that they came home to something better than their Grandmother's cooking attempts after a tough rescue, and this one looked like it would be a nightmare mission. 

She could cook most things, basic and homely she called it, having learnt baking from her Nan, although she did like to challenge herself now and then.

She had decided in her infinite wisdom that if she was capable of making simple dishes like lasagna, chilli's, soups, burgers, pizza's pancakes, breakfasts and the like, coupled with the fact that she was actually good at baking, she could manage to help Grandma in her mission. It shouldn't be that hard to make their boys some lovely fresh donuts, something they all loved. Yep, that was a plan! 

Grandma Tracy had wandered back and forth while Selene was assembling the ingredients, flour, salt, yeast, eggs, milk and melted butter and insisted on helping, trying to add her own selections to the mix which Selene gently vetoed, hiding them in the microwave. It would be fine, with her overseeing the proceedings Grandma couldn't get into too much trouble, could she? 

Selene directed Grandma as they slowly added the wet ingredients into a big mixing bowl, one at a time until they made a relatively smooth mixture, then Grandma added that little by little to the flour, Selene mixing with her hands until they had a rough dough. 

She dribbled some oil onto the worktop, dumped out the bowl and began to knead the slop, gradually feeling it grow thicker and less gloopy, more springy. Damn this was hard work!

"Let me have a try, you youngsters don't know the meaning of hard work."

Selene stepped aside to let Grandma T take her turn, but within a minute the older lady was huffing as bad as Selene was. 

They tag teamed back and forth for a few minutes but her fingers were cramping and she was sure that she had inhaled so much flour she'd be sneezing bread rolls. She went to wipe her forehead but her hands were so greasy with the oil she gave in. She didn't want to resort to cheating, but needs must. 

She whispered a little chant under her breath when Grandma made her excuses to go to the bathroom and watched as the dough kneaded itself, plumping up and down and flipping itself over as she washed her hands and settled down with a can of cherry coke. The dough flopped itself back into its bowl after a few more minutes and she covered it over and placed it on the windowsill to rise for an hour. 

And she promptly forgot about it, wandering off with Grandma to catch up on "The bold and the beautiful" a TV show that Grandma watched religiously and that had become Selene's guilty pleasure whenever she was on the island. 

Upon returning to the kitchen after learning that Chico was Marion's secret son and that Charlie's amnesia was fake, they found the bowl overflowing and the dough creeping its way towards the floor.

"Stupid magic kneading!" Selene dived at the dough, nudging Armstrong out for the way just as he tried to bat at it with his paw. "No! Bad cat. Leave it!" 

She cradled it in her arms like it was a baby, a big, messy, yeasty baby that was determined to get the fuck out of dodge. She balanced on one leg as she tried to hold it up with her knee, kneeing it like she was playing keepy uppy with a football. 

"Grandma, get a bowl! A big one!" She gave it a big push upwards as Grandma shoved a huge bowl under it, catching the evil, still growing blob. 

"What's wrong with it?" Grandma asked as she poked at it with her finger, diving back when it looked like it would consume her whole hand. 

"Nothings wrong with it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Against her better judgement, and Selene wasn't known to be entirely sane at the best of times, she grabbed the biggest saucepan they had and filled it with oil, setting it on the stove to boil. Should only take a few minutes.... 

She watched as the oil began to bubble and smoke, knowing it was about as hot as it would get. Witches didn't like boiling oil, call her silly but that had always been something to avoid in the olden days, which was probably why she had taken the few minutes to kit herself out in a huge apron, Scott's spare bike helmet and a pair of Virgil's thick work gloves. Couldn't be too careful. 

She dug her hands into the dough, hitting it with her elbow when it looked like it might try to be the one to eat her before they cooked it. "No! Down! Bad dough!" 

She was sure it would be fine once it was cooked, witches made everything a bit more lively, the boys could attest to that.

"Watch out Grandma, don't get too close." 

She scooped out a handful and rolled it into a ball then holding it at arm's length, dropped it in the oil like it was a hand grenade. Boom, the oil jumped up to meet her and she stepped back with a squeak of shock. Not good. Nope nope so much nope. Not doing that again. 

"Oh don't worry, it always does that when I cook too," Grandma shrugged as she crossed to the fridge to get herself a drink. "Keep going, it'll be fine."

After rolling another ball, which she caught before it rolled off the counter and across the floor yelling 'cry freedom', she sourced a pair of BBQ tongs to hold it with and dropped it carefully in the oil. 

"That seemed to work," Grandma encouraged. "Keep doing that."

Ball after ball followed and her roll, grab and drop operation was going so well she completely forgot that the oil was actually cooking the damn things. 

"Uh…little too brown maybe…" she fished them out and dumped them into a bowl lined with kitchen towel. She poked them, were they OK? 

"They'll be fine with some powdered sugar on them," Grandma proclaimed wisely, although Selene wasn't too sure. "Do the rest, that's nowhere near enough to feed my boys."

Grandma supervised as Selene slowly worked her way through the dough mass, which seemed to have lost its determination now she had effectively scooped half of it away, though it was still making a strange wheezing noise as it attempted to grow some more. She'd soon put a stop to that! She quickly rolled and tossed more balls into the oil, having perfected her drop and duck technique. Paranoid that she'd burn the next lot she got them out earlier...Perhaps a little too early, as they stuck to her tongs as she slapped them into the bowl. 

"Damn it."

"Jelly will fix them, " Grandma nodded sagely, "Jelly fixes everything."

Selene threw the last of the balls, now looking slightly less ball like and more like lumps of dough that she was too fucked off with to fix, and began to search the cupboards for something to insert the jam inside the balls. 

She located a turkey baster that Parker had insisted they needed to cook a decent Christmas dinner, and that Alan had secretly been using to squirt the Gordon with. Selene had filled it with whisky that one time and used it to fire at Scott from opposite ends of the couch in an attempt to reach each others mouths. She grinned at the memory.

As if reading her mind- maybe she was a witch too- Grandma vanished and reappeared with half a bottle of cooking sherry. 

"Would you like a little taste? I find it helps me relax sometimes when I'm cooking, you're too tense."

Well, that might explain a few of Grandma's more adventurous dishes. 

Selene looked at the bottle, she could actually do with a little of that right now. She held out her coke can and Grandma poured a healthy splash into the remains of her coke.

"Don't tell John," Selene warned as she gulped down some of the drink for strength as she faced the fried dough balls she was supposed to fix. 

She grabbed a pot of smooth jam out of the cupboard and sucked some up into the baster -not that easy to do it turned out- and holding one of the cooked balls she stabbed it with the end of the rubber syringe. It went right through. 

"Shit!" 

She tried again, splitting another one. 

"Fuck!" 

"Language, Selene!" 

"Sorry, Grandma."

"Let me try," Sally managed to get the tip in one and squirted a generous amount into the donut. But didn't count on the force of her squeezing making the donut shoot off the end and fly across the room to smack Armie in the eye.

"Fuck!" 

"Grandma!" Selene was shocked, but had the terrible urge to giggle. 

Sorry," Grandma apologised, both to Selene and the cat, trying again.

***

The bowl was a jammy, powdered sugar covered, slightly oily mess and Selene was on her third can of sherry and coke and honestly, she no longer really gave a shit. 

Who's stupid idea had this been? It was the thought that counted right? 

Grandma had given up over an hour ago and gone to bed, knowing the boys would be heading home soon and Selene desperately needed a shower. She had jam in her hair, sugar sticking to her hands and she'd lost the will to live. 

She plonked the bowl in the middle of the kitchen counter. 

"Sexy spaceman of mine," she texted, "sorry they look like shit…yeah, can't really explain what happened there…but I'll be naked in bed if that helps." She snapped a picture to go with it and called it good, promising to clean up in the morning. 

And she wound her way on slightly unsteady feet, up the stairs and into the bathroom to shower off the remains of her one and only attempt to cook something you could buy easier, promising herself a trip to Krispy Kreme in the very near future, and flopped on the bed wrapped in nothing but a towel. 

***

"John?" Gordon stared at the text that had popped up on all their comms less than 30 seconds ago. 

"I don't even know."

Their brother's long suffering, defeated tone just made the whole thing even funnier. 

"Think you had better get down here, bro," Virgil chuckled. "We'll be home in five."

"Yeah, that's probably wise," Scott added. 

Even EOS seemed to find the whole situation amusing, which in itself was a little bit worrying, as John rode the elevator down to the island. 

Alan and Gordon were staring at the bowl as if it might explode any minute. John spotted the empty sherry bottle in the sink and sighed. 

"Grandma got the sherry out." 

"That's not good," Scott agreed as he too entered the war zone, formerly known as the kitchen, his eyes taking in the precariously piled bowls, the flour that coated every surface, the oil patch that Alan almost slipped in and the grease splattered stove top, the pan of oil sitting abandoned. His bike helmet was on one of the stools and one of Virgil's gloves peeked out from the bottom bowl of the stack, though it was so covered in dough you could barely tell what it was. 

Virgil brought up the rear, his nose wrinkling at the slightly smokey, oily smell that hung in the air. 

"Dare you to eat one," Gordon nudged Alan. 

"Hell no! John should, it's his girlfriend that made them."

"Fiancée," John automatically corrected, poking gingerly at the contents of the bowl. "And no, I don't think so."

"Scott, you're the brave one, you like to take a risk now and then, you do it."

"Like the rescue wasn't risky enough? No way. Virg, you try, it's like modern art, appreciate it."

"Nope, I like my taste buds where they are, Gordo, you do it, it was your idea."

Gordon paled as he looked into the bowl. 

"All of us?" he asked hopefully. 

The boys exchanged glances and then one by one they all reached into the bowl, their competitive streak unable to resist, selecting the least offensive looking offerings. 

"On three?" Scott confirmed. "One…two…three!"

As one they all tossed their donuts into their mouths, chewing madly, their faces contorting into identical grimaces of horror and disgust. 

Alan raced to the trash can, opening his mouth to let the offending evil drop out of his mouth. 

"Urghh, it was raw inside," he shuddered. 

Gordon followed suit, spitting his out. "Mines burnt."

Virgil managed to swallow his. "Mine was all sugar which pretty much hid everything."

Scott had a dribble of jelly running down his chin to drip onto his uniform, his mouth hanging open as if he didn't dare close it again. Virgil handed him a paper towel and he grateful spat out the offensive food.

"My God, that was foul."

They all looked at John, who was still chewing his dough ball, the more he chewed they bigger it seemed to get never getting any smaller. In the end he too gave up and spat it into the trash. "It was like trying to eat a rubber ball."

Virgil tossed the remains into the trash to spare Kayo and Brains the same horror. "At least they tried."

Too tired to actually be bothered with real food, Scott handed round some bowls and Virgil grabbed a box of cereal and some milk.

They all ate quickly, eating in companionable silence, standing up, leaning against various cupboards and furniture, knowing if they sat down they would likely never get up again. 

"Damn!" John moved suddenly, breaking the silence of the room, dumping his half eaten cereal in the sink. 

"What's wrong?" Scott frowned, instantly worried. 

"I just remembered the rest of her message," he was already running towards the stairs, "I've got a naked woman waiting for me."

Alan shuddered, gagging on his mouthful of cereal. "I did not need to know that."


	3. Gordon In Training

The first opening notes rocked through the hidden speakers of the Villa's sound system, making more than a few of them jump. 

"What the hell?" Selene frowned as Gordon marched in from the hallway, trailed by Alan. The aquanaut was getting his strut on as entered the living area. 

Alan, bizarrely, was carrying a bucket. Gordon had a rolled up towel draped across his shoulders , a sweatband around his head and was wearing nothing else but pair of shorts. 

"Coming through!" Alan yelled over the pounding of the music. "Champion in training." 

"In training?" Selene was utterly lost. 

"Looks like Gordon is preparing for another marathon," Virgil grinned. 

"A marathon? Awww little squid, is he doing it for charity?" 

"I doubt it," Scott answered, not looking up from his tablet. 

Risin' up, back on the street  
Did my time, took my chances. 

She jumped up to join in as Gordon began to jog on the spot, her head bobbing in time to the beat. 

Went the distance now I'm back on my feet  
Just a man and his will to survive. 

Alan put down his bucket, which she peeked into, seeing that it contained a number of items. 

So many times it happens too fast  
You trade your passion for glory. 

Ahhh, she wanted to support one of her smalls!

Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past  
You must fight just to keep them alive. 

She joined in with the chorus, bopping along as Gordon started a vigorous round of star jumps on the spot. 

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight  
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival  
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night  
And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger

Alan grabbed a water bottle out of his bucket and popped up the lid. Gordon opened his mouth and was rewarded with a squirt of water. 

Face to face, out in the heat  
Hangin' tough, stayin' hungry

Selene glanced at the older two, Scott still wasn't paying attention but Virgil was watching with an amused expression. 

They stack the odds, still we take to the street  
For the kill with the skill to survive

Gordon broke into a round of shadow boxing and she cheered him on by singing along as loudly as possible. 

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight  
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival  
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night  
And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger

Alan lifted one end of the towel and dabbed at his brother's forehead. 

Risin' up, straight to the top  
Had the guts, got the glory

Gordon patted his washboard stomach and struck classic macho man pose. 

Went the distance now I'm not gonna stop  
Just a man and his will to survive

Gordon kissed each bicep in turn as she cheered, clapping along to the beat. 

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight  
Risin' up to the challenge of our rival  
And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night

Alan massaged his brother's shoulders and pushed him towards the seating area. 

And he's watchin' us all with the eye of the tiger

She and Alan continued to sing as Gordon strutted around the circular table, bowing now and then to his adoring supporters. 

The eye of the tiger  
The eye of the tiger  
The eye of the tiger  
The eye of the tiger

Gordon flopped down on one of the couches and swung his legs up, arm outstretched. 

Alan grabbed something from the bucket and slapped it down into his hand. 

Grinning Gordon lifted one leg, poked a button on the central projector with his toe and settled back against the cushions. 

"This is Into the Unknown with Buddy and Ellie and today we're chasing down the elusive Loch Ness Monster!"

SHHHHHHTTTTTT! 

Selene jumped as Gordon tipped his head back, opened his mouth and squirted a generous dollop of cheese into his mouth. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding me! Gordon!" 

"Whaff?" he mumbled through his mouth full. 

She looked at Virgil for help. 

"Marathon."

"New season just dropped," Alan confirmed, plonking down into his launch chair. 

She threw her hands up in disbelief as she stomped out of the room. 

"You're all nuts!"


	4. Scott Strikes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came about after a random chat with the awesome Soniabigcheese (her settings don't allow me to add her as a Co-creator unfortunately) about her WereVirgil series and how Scott might use his brothers condition to his advantage.

It was always nice to spend some time together, especially after a long day. After a warm up they had hit the paths hard. Scott's arms pumped out a regular rhythm, matching his legs as his feet pounded the ground. The faster and longer they run the clearer his head became. 

They began to slow, having done three laps of the park. They geared down to a jog for their last lap and that was when he saw her. 

A pretty redhead, curvy enough to want to map out all those bends with your hands and from the animated way she was talking into her phone, she seemed like fun. 

He slowed to a stop, pausing by a bench to stretch. Partly good cool down, partly because he'd been told his ass looked good in these pants…

And she walked right on by. How was that even possible? His eyes followed her in disbelief as she veered around them as if they weren't even there and continued on her way. 

Scott looked at Virgil, who had the biggest grin on his face, tongue hanging out as he panted. 

Huh, he could use that. 

"Virg…"

The massive wolf shook its head. No way, no how, not again, it was degrading. 

"It's not like I ask you to do this all the time, besides, you owe me one for not telling Alan that you were the one that broke his games tablet by sitting on it."

Virgil gave him a look that said he was planning to cock his leg in his cockpit very soon. If they weren't in public and he hadn't had to stay silent, acting the part of the huge friendly dog, he would have sworn a blue streak. 

"Come on, it worked so well last time, just this once, I promise. I'll never ask you again."

Virgil snorted, clearly not believing his brother for a second but turned tail and took off at a run. 

Scott grinned. Honestly, he had the best brothers in the world. 

Virgil lifted his head, scenting the air… Huh, she smelt interesting. Like bacon. Bacon was always a good indication as to the quality of a person. 

She was easy on the eyes too, a buxom redhead of middle height with an easy smile on her face. She looked like she'd know how to give a good belly scratch. 

He glanced at Scott, who nodded from his hiding spot behind the trunk of a large tree, making a shooing motion with his hands. 

Virgil snorted, honestly, he was a highly skilled pilot and engineer and this was how he spent his evenings. He padded after the woman, who was just putting her phone away, and started to woof. 

She turned to look at him, watching as he trotted over and shoved his snout into her hand. 

She automatically began to stroke his head, fondling his ears when he sat down on her foot. 

"Wow, you're a big boy aren't you?" 

His tongue lolled proudly out of his mouth. Yeah, he heard that a lot. In both forms. 

"Soft though." She eased her foot out from under his bulk and sat down on a nearby bench. Virgil didn't let up for a second, following her and laying his head on her lap. 

Smiling, she kept petting him. She had long nails that managed to dig into his fur the way that his brothers just couldn't manage and hit just the right spot that had him sighing in ecstasy, one leg twitching its approval. 

"Where's your owner, huh?" 

Owner? What was she… Shit, Scott! He was on a mission and he'd completely forgotten. He lifted his head and barked loudly, giving the signal. 

The woman cupped his head in her hands. "You have such pretty eyes, such intelligence, almost human."

Lady, you have no idea. He gently butted against her chin, making her laugh. 

"Virgil?" Scott's voice was distant but getting closer. 

"Virgil, is that you, boy?" He swiped his tongue across her cheek in answer. "Ewww."

His brother rounded the corner at a fast jog, slowing down when he saw them. 

"Virgil, there you are. I thought I'd lost you." He bent to pet his brother's head, whispering in his ear. "Good job, buddy."

He straightened, giving the woman his most devastating smile, ruthlessly deploying his high impact dimples. Target is acquired. She smiled back. Direct hit. 

"Thank you so much for finding my dog, this isn't our usual haunt and I think he got distracted."

She laughed. "Well, I didn't exactly find him, he found me."

"Either way I'm very grateful. I'm Scott," he offered his hand. 

"Rachel," she stopped stroking Virgil's head to shake his hand. "And this fellow is named Virgil?" Bit of a strange name for a dog if you asked her. 

"Yeah, that's him."

"Named after the poet?" 

"Oh, sure, yeah, the poet." He could be deep, he could be an intellectual. 

She didn't look like she believed him and Virgil wanted to laugh. His brother always thought he was so smooth.

A cold gust of wind whipped past and Rachel shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her. She'd had a long day and just wanted to get home. 

"It's chilly out here," Scott announced as if they were all too stupid to realise. He glanced across the street for inspiration. Ah ha. "I was just about to grab a coffee to warm up, can I treat you to one, just to say thank you for keeping him company?" 

Rachel glanced at the dog, all big brown eyes and cute floppy tongued grin. How could anyone have let such a precious thing run around the park like that and risk him getting hurt? 

She looked over at the coffee stand, it wasn't that far and it was pretty cold. She could do with a hot drink right now. 

"Sure, coffee would be good."

Scott grinned, pulling out a leash which he clipped to the collar his brother was forced to wear any time they were in public after an unfortunate incident with a dog warden. 

This was humiliating, being towed around like a common mutt, and by his brother no less. The things he put up with for his family. Scott had better be extra grateful and do his chores for the next month to make up for this. 

They crossed the street where Scott ordered their coffee's. A no nonsense black one sugar for him, a frothy hazelnut latte for her and a hotdog for Virgil who had begun to whine the second he'd seen the meaty goodness. 

The grumpy looking man behind the counter slapped the lids on their drinks and deposited them on the counter without a word. 

Pleasant guy, that one. Scott thanked him anyway and passed Rachel her drink. 

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

She took an experimental sip, slightly worried that the man behind the counter had infected it with his bad mood, but found it very pleasant. This was just what she needed to make it home. 

"Thanks again, make sure you keep that guy on his leash, you wouldn't want to lose him for real." She settled her bag on her shoulder and riffled through for her subway pass. She bent to pet Virgil again, unable to resist the lure of his soft fur. "It was nice meeting you, puppy."

"Wait? You're going?" 

She frowned. "Yeah."

Scott blinked. She was going, just like that? "Can I get your number, you know, in case we're ever in town again?" 

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I don't date people that can't look after their pets."

She left him spluttering a denial, sipping her coffee as she walked. 

Virgil howled with laughter, unable to look at his brother's shocked face. It was so funny to see his overly confident brother strike out in such a big way. Scott, the heroic guy who was always first on the scene and a hit with the ladies had been shot down in a ball of flames. 

Smooth, bro. Real smooth. Just wait until he told Gordon about this. 

Scott swiped at Virgil's nose, which just made him laugh harder, falling sideways to roll around on his back, all four paws in the air. 

"You know, I'm beginning to think I'm more of a cat person, next time I'll get John to be stuck up a tree."


	5. Family Feud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came about after a hilarious conversation with my kid on a car ride home, she picked the questions and answers, all inspired by real life events.

"You cannot be serious, Gordon, tell me you're joking," Scott's voice was muffled by his hands, his whole body slumped forward in his seat as he prayed for death. 

"What? It'll be fun!" 

"You seriously signed us up for this? All of us? ALL OF US?" Virgil wondered how hard it would be to train Selene as his new co-pilot because the position was about to become vacant. 

"No?" 

"Gordon, don't answer with a question! You did, didn't you?" Scott couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

"OK, yes, I did, but Penny was desperate and she said the WASP team had already signed up, we can't let them have all the glory. Come on, we can beat them, our honour is at stake!" 

"Ah, that explains it, not only are you totally wrapped around her pinky, you want bragging rights," Virgil shook his head in despair. 

"But Alan said it was cool!" 

"Alan thinks everything is cool! And he is not the one in charge here!" 

"But it's for charity!" 

Scott sighed, knowing he was beaten. It was too late to back out now, plus it was for a good cause. "Fine, what's done is done, but you're the one that has to tell John."

"Easy," Gordon grinned. "No problem!" 

"You can't make Selene do it for you," Virgil warned him. 

"Nuts!" 

***

Gordon stared across at their rivals, dressed in their World Aquanaut Security Patrol uniforms, looking perfectly relaxed as they chatted amongst themselves. He looked at his brothers, Alan bouncing excitedly beside him, John sandwiched between him and Virgil looking like he was about to cut and run, or duck and hide under their podium, Virgil who looked fine now that he had gotten used to the idea and finally Scott who still looked like he wanted to murder someone. It was obviously going to be a fun day. 

It was hot under all lights and John could already feel the sweat beading on his brow, made a thousand times worse by the anxiety pounding through him and the metric ton of makeup they had held him down and forced on him backstage. Apparently so much time in space had left him with a completion the makeup artist had rudely called "the underbelly of a fish". Dark circles from too little sleep had been scrubbed away with something in a little tube , they had painted on layers of gunk and then brushed on so much powder he had begun sneezing and only just stopped. 

All these people, a live studio audience, a too cheerful host and he was in hell, utter hell and it was all his brother's fault. Selene had told him he wasn't allowed to kill him, but John was sure there would be a way he could make Four have a sudden unexplained air lock failure while deep under the ocean. 

"I can't believe we're going to be on TV!" 

"Alan," Scott's voice dripped with forced patience, "we're always on TV."

Alan paused, looking surprised for a second, then brightened. "Oh yeah, we are."

"I'm in hell," John shuddered as a screaming lady with a clapper board and too much hair spray ran past their podium. 

"Just don't think about it," Virgil soothed. "Focus on the fact that it's for charity, you're probably the smartest person here and soon it'll all be over and done with."

"Two minutes to go!" screamer yelled, making John jump. 

Alan bounced excitedly. "This is so great, I love this show!" 

"Kill me now, just tell Selene I died heroically."

"Fine, I'm happy being her backup husband."

By rights the glare John shot Scott should have been enough to make him combust on the spot, but his annoying older brother just grinned. 

"One minute people!" 

Gordon waved to Marina when she lifted her hand in a little acknowledgement, having already called out greetings to the others. 

Troy, as usual was standing between Marina and Atlanta, Phones on the end of the line next to Marina, with Commander Shore as team leader. 

"Going live in 10...9…"

"I've never dreaded a countdown more," John whispered to Scott who sniggered. 

"6...5…"

"Please, welcome your host Cass Carnaby!" 

The singer turned TV host bounded onto the set, waving graciously to the applauding audience. 

"Hello, and thank you for joining us for another Celebrity edition of Family Feud! This week we are joined by two teams of the bravest people we know. Please, put your hands together for the guys responsible for patrolling our seas and keeping us safe, Commander Shore, Atlanta Shore, Troy Tempest, Marina and Phones, Team WASP!"

The audience applauded loudly.

"And our second team, those fast and fabulous Thunderbirds, ready to drop anything to help a person in need, the hot-shot brothers of International Rescue, Scott, Virgil, John, Gordon and Alan, Team Tracy!" 

"That's it! I can get EOS to fake a call."

"No, you can't," Virgil inisited.

Gordon shot a smug look towards Troy when they received a slightly louder and longer applause, along with a few woops. 

"So, Team WASP, can you tell us which charity you are playing for today?" 

"Here at WASP we support many charities, but the one closest to our heart is Little Soldiers, an organisation that supports children who have lost one or both of their parents while they were on active service," Shore explained from his spot beside the podium, seated in his hoverchair. 

"A very worthy cause. And, Team Tracy, what's your charity?" 

"We are supporting the International Red Cross, in honour of our Grandma who volunteered for a number of years with them before she married. It's an organisation dedicated to protecting human life and health worldwide, very much like our own mission. Every life is worth saving," Scott spoke with his usual calm surety and a little note of pride. 

"Wonderful. Right, let's start this game. Can I call our gallant team captains to the stand?" 

Scott moved forward, as did Shore, who was handed a cordless buzzer while Scott stood with one hand behind his back, one hand next to his buzzer. 

"Commander Shore, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?" 

"Well, ah, my name is Samuel Shore and I have the rather dubious honour of being in charge or this bunch of layabouts." The rest of his team grumbled denials affectionately under their breath. "I spent a number of years in the Navy before I was asked to head up the construction and running of Marineville."

"Good stuff, and what about you?" Cass turned to Scott. 

"I'm Scott Tracy and I'm the pilot of Thunderbird One."

Cass waited for more but Scott declined to play that game and simply stared back at him. 

"Alright then, hands near your buzzers, question one and it's an easy one to ease you in, we asked a hundred people to name something that a cowboy would hate to have happen."

Shore hit his buzzer first. "Lose his horse."

"Oh, good answer, let's check the board."

The second answer 'something happen to his horse' flipped over for 22 points.

"Scott, what's your answer."

"Shoot himself in the foot," Scott answered with a perfectly straight face. 

Cass chuckled. "Is it on the board? We're looking for 'shoot himself in the foot'." 

A loud wah-wah sounded and a big red cross appeared on the holoscreen. 

"So that means Team WASP have control, do you want to play or pass?" 

Shore looked at his team who all cheered. "We'll play."

Shore returned to his spot and Cass made his way over to meet the rest of the team. 

"Hello, Atlanta, tell us a little about yourself?" 

"I am the communications officer based in the control tower and part of my job is to supervise the launching and docking of every craft that enters Marineville. Nothing comes in or goes out without my permission."

"Except Troy," Gordon side whispered to Alan, but unfortunately his microphone was working a little too well, earning him a glare from Atlanta, Troy and Shore. 

"So, Atlanta," Cass pushed, "Can you name something a cowboy would hate to happen?" 

Atlanta thought about it for a few seconds then answered confidently. "His gun not working."

"Been there," Troy nodded like it was an everyday occurrence. 

"Now, Troy, you know your gun is in perfect working order," Atlanta commented innocently. Marina nodded. 

"Of course it is, all our equipment is rigorously tested and maintained," Shore assured them. Troy just looked uncomfortable. 

"Erm, let's check the board shall we?" 

Ting! The 4th answer spun round and they all clapped happily. 

"Troy, something a cowboy would hate?" 

"Forgetting his beans."

"Forgetting his beans?" 

"Yes, because that's what they eat out on the range."

The Tracy boys snorted with laughter. 

"OK, would a cowboy hate forgetting his beans?" 

Wah-wah! 

"Marina, you're up."

Marina nodded. 

"Name something that a cowboy would hate."

Marina stares for a moment and then pointed to her head. 

"He'd hate his head?" 

Marina shook her head, pointing to her head again, then mimed taking a hat off. 

"Oh, OK. Let's check the board, would a cowboy hate his hat?" 

Marina banged on the podium, shaking her head but it was too late. 

Wah-wah 

"It's not there, you have one life left team WASP, Phones, it's all up to you now. Name something a cowboy would hate?" 

"Well, gee, I guess you could say that a cowboy would hate breaking his lasso."

"Is breaking his lasso there?" Cass pointed dramatically to the board. 

Wah-wah

"I'm sorry, we have to pass to Team Tracy for a chance to steal."

The boys were still shrouded in their huddle. 

"Cattle rustlers," Virgil suggested. 

"Tractors," John answered logically. 

"Broken Spur," Gordon added. 

"Losing his hat," Alan threw in. 

"Yes! That's a good one, let's go with that," Scott pointed at Alan. 

"Team Tracy, do you have an answer?" 

The boys broke their huddle and returned to their spots. 

"Yes, Cass, we think a cowboy would hate it if he lost his hat."

Marina stamped her foot, gesturing angrily at the board then pointed to her head again. 

"Good answer, let's see if it's there. Would a cowboy hate losing his hat?" 

Ting! 

The boys cheered as they won the board, Marina looked like she wanted to drown them all. 

Virgil and Atlanta took to the stand. 

"So, Virgil, tell us a bit about you, preferably more than Scott did."

Scott shrugged, uncaring as to the shade that had been thrown his way.

Virgil turned on the charm, grinning at Atlanta who smiled back.

"I pilot Thunderbird Two, but in my spare time I enjoy painting and making sweet music."

"A fellow musician, wonderful. Alright, question two, hands to your buzzers. We asked a hundred people to name something that a burglar wouldn't want to see when they break into a house."

Virgil slammed his hand down on his buzzer. 

"A large dog!" 

"Well I know I wouldn't want to see that if I was breaking into a house. Is a large dog on the board?" Cass pointed to the board. Ting! 

The Tracys cheered as Virgil got the top answer. 

"We're going to play," he winked at Atlanta and strutted back to his spot, Cass following. 

Cass stopped in front of John, who looked like he was about to be sick, his knuckles white on the podium as he gripped on for dear life. 

"So, the elusive John Tracy, want to tell us a little about yourself?" 

John blinked, his eyes wide in horror as a camera moved closer, paralysed with anxiety now the focus was entirely on him. 

"Anything at all?" 

Gordon nudged John in the ribs with his elbow. 

"Space!" 

Cass frowned briefly before his forehead smoothed out. 

"Space?" he nodded as if that explained everything when it obviously didn't. 

Gordon leaned over to speak into John's microphone, why, Cass had no idea. 

"John heads up our communications in our control hub based in stationary orbit high above the earth. He's the one that answers the many calls for help we receive, from there he coordinates our rescues."

"Communications? Are you sure?" 

John nodded dumbly. 

"OK then, so, something a burglar wouldn't want to see when they break into a house."

John's hands shook a little and his head felt fuzzy. He forced himself to suck in a deep breath, his body apparently forgetting that it needed oxygen. His mind had gone totally and utterly blank. It had failed him! The pressure, the people, the audience going from whispering to outright talking as he stood there, frozen on the spot. 

"Come on, John, you got this," Virgil encouraged. 

Nope, he'd got nothing, there was nothing left to get. 

"I'm going to have to hurry you."

Think, brain, think! He closed his eyes, trying to block out everything going on around him and conjure up the most horrifyingly terrifying thing he could think of. His brain twitched feebly, and he mentally prodded it. Don't you quit on me now! 

"Five seconds."

"Say something! ANYTHING!" Gordon pushed. 

John desperately rooted around in his mind for something, anything at all and finally a memory surfaced, one he had overheard at college from a dorm neighbour who had come back from a weekend at his girlfriend's…

"Two seconds."

"Naked Grandma!" 

The audience burst into shocked laughter, Gordon almost collapsed he was laughing so hard and Alan just looked horrified, like John's words had conjured up an image he really didn't want to see. 

John groaned in disbelief at what had just passed his lips. He'd never live this down. He was never leaving Five again. 

"Erm… OK, is…" Cass paused to compose himself, "is naked Grandma on the list?" 

Wah-wah. 

"Sorry, John, bad luck," Cass commiserated, moving quickly on. "Gordon, nice to meet you."

Gordon hurriedly pulled himself together, wiping his streaming eyes and coughing to clear his throat. 

"Great to meet you too, Cass, I just have to say that I loved you guys back in the day."

"Thank you. I hear you are the underwater specialist, piloting Thunderbird Four, is that correct?" 

"Yep, that's me and my little yellow 'bird."

"Can you name something that a burglar wouldn't want to see when they break into a house?" 

"A security camera."

"Good answer, bro!" Alan encouraged. 

"Is security camera on the list?" 

Ting!

"Well done, Gordon, now, Alan, can you name something that a burglar wouldn't want to see when they break into a house?" 

"A homeowner with a gun?" 

Scott's head thumped down into his hand. 

"Is 'a homeowner with a gun' there?" 

Ting! 

"Alan! You did it!" Scott actually liked shocked. 

"I'm insulted you doubted me!" 

"Last round and it's the double money round, giving team WASP a chance to play in the final if they win this one. Can we have Troy and John to the stand please?" 

Virgil unpeeled John's hands from the tabletop in front of them and Gordon shoved a hyperventilating John to the front while Troy swaggered over with his usual confidence. John was doomed. 

"Welcome, so, Troy, can you tell us a little about what it is you do at WASP?" 

"Hey, Cass, I'm Captain Troy Tempest and I am in charge of the world's most advanced, and versatile submarine, Stingray-"

"Lies, Tempest!" Gordon protested. "Stingray is nothing compared to Four."

"That tiny little thing?" Troy snorted dismissively, "if that came up against a Terror Fish it would fall apart."

Virgil grabbed Gordon around the waist before he could launch himself at his old commanding officer. Gordon struggled, arms and legs flailing as Virgil lifted him bodily off his feet. 

"That hulking heap of junk you call a sub would never survive a rescue! Bring it on, Tempest!" 

"We asked a hundred people to name something they would take on a date." Cass shouted over the yells coming from Team WASP. 

Troy was too busy glaring daggers at Gordon to hear the question and John was too focused on trying to turn invisible and praying for the ground to open up and swallow him. 

"You never did respect your superiors, boy!" 

"I left to join the real winning team!" 

"Troy! John! Something you would take on a date?" Cass yelled over their arguing, trying to get their attention. 

"John! Hit the buzzer!" Scott called over the insults flinging their way across the studio floor. 

"Your breath is worse than Oinks, Tempest!" 

"Your backstroke is weak, Tracy! You look like a flailing frog!" 

John couldn't force his hands to move, frozen in place, he wasn't going to risk saying the wrong thing again. 

"WHAT WOULD YOU TAKE ON A DATE?!" 

Troy snapped to attention and punched the buzzer button. "Condoms!" 

Atlanta groaned, hiding her face in her hands as her father glared first at Troy and then at her, obviously not liking that answer. 

"Are condoms on the list?" 

Ting! Third answer.

"John, for a chance to steal?" 

John just shook his head, refusing to say a word. 

"Team WASP, I take it you're playing?" 

"We are, Cass," Troy made the 'I'm watching you' gesture at Gordon who made a grab for his water bottle ready to launch it at the other man but Scott snatched it out of the way. 

Troy grinned as he rejoined his team. 

Cass lent against the WASP podium, looking casual but actually trying to block Troy's view of the Tracy boys who, along with John whom Scott had just dragged back, were already in a huddle discussing possible answers. 

"Marina, care to tell us a little about yourself?" 

Marina stared at him. 

"Erm, Marina doesn't actually talk," Troy admitted. 

Cass rolled his eyes in utter disbelief. They had seriously brought someone who didn't speak to a game show? He should have stuck to singing, sure the hours were longer and his music had been twisted to sabotage transporter planes, but anything was better than this. 

"Well, we'll give it a go. Marina, what would you take with you on a date?" 

Marina tapped her chin as she thought about it, then lifted her hand to her ear. 

"You'd take your hand?" 

Marina didn't need to speak to convey exactly how dumb she thought Cass was being at that moment. 

"No?" 

She shook her head, then pointed to her ear and held the hand against her ear again. 

"You'd take your ear, so you could listen to your date! Good answer! Is a listening ear on the board?" 

Wah-wah! 

Marina turned her back on Cass, infuriated with the stupid boy. How hard was it to get that she was miming a phone?

"Phones, I take it that's a nickname?" Cass tried hard to defuse the situation as the Tracy boys cackled evilly. 

"That's right, my mama christened me George but I've been called Phones since my cadet days due to my skills with the Hydrophones."

"Makes sense. So, tell me, something you'd take on a date?"

"I'd take money, because no little lady is going to pay her way if I'm taking her out."

His team clapped loudly, finally a sensible answer. 

"Is money on the board?" 

Ting! 6th answer. 

"Commander Shore, name something you'd take on a date, sir?" 

"Flowers, who doesn't like flowers?" 

Ting, 5th answer and the WASP team erupted into cheers as they won the board, the Tracy boys groaning as they broke their huddle, not having had a chance to use any of their answers, though John looked hugely relieved that he wouldn't have to speak again. 

"Let's check our scores, The WASP team just earnt 43 points, which we're going to double, giving them a score of 86, but, with two rounds won and a score of 117 the Tracy family are through to the final!" 

"Sucks to be in your sub!" Gordon screamed in triumph as his brothers, apart from John who was still doing his impression of a statue, celebrated. 

"Congratulations, Tracy family, that was very well played. Can I ask who is going to be representing you in the final?" 

"That would be Gordon and Virgil," Scott announced, much to Alan's disappointment and John's relief. 

"And who's joining me first?" 

"Virgil is." 

Virgil came round the podium and joined Cass in the spotlight for the final round while Gordon was escorted off the set so he couldn't hear his brother's answers. 

"In this round we're looking for five top answers and at least two hundred points. If you get all five tops your charity will win £50,000. If you only manage to get the two hundred points we'll add £10,000 to your score total, bringing your total prize money to £10,117. If you get over two hundred and all five top answers, we'll give £100,000 to your chosen charity."

The audience whooped and wooed in delight. 

"No pressure then?" Virgil gulped, his confident smile slipping just a little. 

"You'll have twenty seconds to answer all your questions, just say the first thing that comes into your mind. Are you ready?"

Virgil took a deep breath, getting in the zone, then nodded. "Sure, let's do this."

"Name a part of the body that starts with the letter T?" 

"Toe!" 

"Name something you'd practice kissing on?" 

"Kayo!" 

Scott's shocked laugh rolled through the studio along with Alan's shocked gasp of "I knew it!" 

"Name a word that comes after 'pork'?" 

"Chop!" 

More clapping and support. 

"One of the seven dwarfs?" 

"Dopey!" 

"Name a yellow fruit."

"Lemon!" 

Virgil huffed out a breath and accepted his applause graciously. 

"Well done, let's check your scores. You said, Toe. Our survey said?" Ding, top answer and a loud cheer. 

"You said…Kayo. How many people said Kayo?" Wah-wah. Virgil slumped, he couldn't believe he'd said that. She was going to kill him. 

"Never mind, don't worry, that's why Gordon is here. You said, chop. Our survey said?" Ding! Top answer. 

"Next question, you said Dopey and a hundred people said…" Ding! Top answer. 

"And lastly I asked you to name a yellow fruit. You said lemon…" Ding! Top answer. 

"That was excellent, four top answers and a score of a hundred and sixty-three points. You may go and rejoin your team while we welcome Gordon back!"

Gordon trotted on stage waving to the audience and took up his place, bouncing in the spot. 

"Are you ready?" 

"I was born ready, Cass." 

"I'm going to ask you five questions, if you give me an answer that Virgil has already said I'll ask you for another. Your brother did really well, he got four of the top answers and 163 points meaning you only need to find one top answer and score thirty seven points. Just clear your mind and say the first thing you think of. OK?"

"Clear my mind, easy. I got this! Let's do it."

"A body part beginning with the letter 'T'?" 

"Toe." Boop 

"Another."

"Titties!" 

Scott groaned, his brother was a disgrace. Alan collapsed on Virgil who was also laughing. 

"Something you would practice kissing on?"

"A poster!" 

The audience screamed excitedly. 

"Something that comes after the word 'pork'?" 

"Chop." Boop

"Another!" 

Gordon paused, floundering, his mind having gone blank. He could hear the countdown timer ticking away loudly, mocking him. What was that other thing that they called a chop?

"First thing you think of, we need an answer. Something that comes after the word, pork?"

"...cupine?" 

Loud giggling filled the studio. 

"One of the seven dwarves?" 

"Stupid? That was one wasn't it?" 

"Name a yellow fruit?" 

"Orange!" 

Gordon deflated, knowing that he'd likely screwed up the whole thing. Who the hell said titties? 

Cass put a commiserating arm around his shoulders and turned him to look at the screen. 

"Don't worry, you had some good answers there. Let's just see how you did. You said…titties, how many people said that?" Ting! Nine points. 

"Yes! I wasn't the only one!" 

Cass chuckled. "Next you said poster, our survey said?" Ding! Top answer and thirty one points. The audience went wild! 

The rest of the boys poured out, Alan dragging a silent John, and surrounded Gordon in a group hug. 

***

"So, how did it…go?" Selene trailed off as Scott deposited a comatosed looking John onto the couch next to her. 

"We won!" Alan cheered, high fiving Brains.

"That's g-great." 

"Yeah, that's fantastic, but what the hell did you do to him?" she lent over to look at her love. "John? Sweetie, can you hear me?" 

Nothing. 

"Anyone home?" she patted his hand. He blinked but remained motionless. 

"You broke my boyfriend!" 

"Fiancé," John corrected before returning to his near dead state.


	6. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the challenge prompt of 'Touch' by @gumnut-Logic

Touch is such a simple word, as can be the gestures themselves. It’s something that most people don’t even think about, it’s something that is so often freely given and received, almost automatically added into gestures of affection and friendship that are now a part of everyday life. No one questions it, no one pays any attention when they see people hugging or kissing, it’s just how it is, even if that touch is so often uninvited, unrequested and sometimes unwanted.

If someone tries to hug you and you flinch, you’re the bad guy, you’re the one in the wrong because you don’t automatically allow someone to invade your personal space. Then you are thought of as cold, unfeeling, unemotional and unsociable. Does anyone bother asking you what you want or if you are OK with it? Not in his experience.

If you don't freely accept every touch that people choose to bestow upon you, because they deem it necessary even if you don’t, it’s you that is seen as being in the wrong. Never them. Touch can be positive, but it can so easily be negative.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to be touched, he just had to feel comfortable enough with the people around him that were doing the touching. He hadn’t always been that way, in highschool he was quiet but comfortable with his small circle of friends and his family, more than happy to receive pats on the back, a brotherly shoulder bump, a hug or to have someone snuggle up to him during family time. 

He was sandwiched in the middle of four brothers, two older, two younger, all with very loud, boisterous personalities, his older brothers always there with a comforting hug or a consolitary arm slung around his shoulder on a bad day, or his younger brothers who’d happily throw themselves on him with little to no warning.

He’d grown up surrounded by people that were free with their affection and never thought twice about touching, and neither had he. 

Losing their mother had changed everything for all of them, the youngest two got the most attention, something he'd never begrudged, they had needed it. Their father had withdrawn into himself, leaving Virgil and Scott to pick up the slack with the house and Alan, leaving him to pretty much fend for himself. He'd been extremely close to their mother and without her there to mediate, knowing when he’d had too much and needed some space or when he needed to be drawn back into the family circle, he'd been left to his own devices and that had meant that he'd locked himself away to grieve in peace. 

Eventually, as a family they had grown stronger and they had attempted to integrate him back into the family unit but it had been too little too late. He'd withdrawn further and it had been noticed at school where he had grown used to either the pitying looks or the nasty sneered comments that were thrown his way. He was a loser, he was a loner, he was weird. His shy nature and now natural inclination to pull away from any physical contact was a beacon to those with a cruel streak as he'd found out to his cost. 

University was supposed to be a game changer, the place where he could find himself and grew comfortable in his own skin but it had had the opposite effect. Long hours spent in solitary study, staying awake into the early hours of the morning to watch his stars, snatching a few hours sleep before attending lectures all day had played havoc with his social skills, poor as they had been before, and had given him an excuse to retire further into himself than he had before.

He’d gotten used to being alone, not having to worry about saying the wrong thing or having to act a certain way. He’d grown used to having his own space, to not having that social interaction, not having people constantly in his face and demanding attention. It was peaceful, quiet and freeing in a way he couldn’t put his finger on but above all it was a relief to be able to think without constant demands on his time. 

But with that had come the absence of people who actively sought him out, who would check in with him even if he felt like he didn’t need them to. He made no effort to join any of the fraternities or clubs that the university had boasted, feeling he didn’t have time for them, and so his friendship circles had grown even smaller. Strangers weren’t as inclined to randomly grab him or touch him as his family had been and so it hadn’t been unheard of for him to go days, sometimes weeks without having any form of physical contact with anyone for the first year of his studies.

His second and third years had been a little different, he’d promised Virgil that he’d try to broaden his horizons and spend more time with people that shared his interests and had actively put himself out there a little more. Going to parties, all of which he had hated and made excuses to slip out early, forming friendships, dating, some casual relationships when they had the time, but at heart he'd still been more comfortable alone. 

After leaving university and devoting his life to International Rescue full time it hadn't been unheard of for him to spend more than a month alone in his craft with nothing but the odd call from home. He'd been so busy that he hadn't even realised that he'd barely spent any time with other humans in over a year. 

Coming down to the Island for the first time in more than two months had been a challenge in itself. After the peaceful quiet of space, entering the lounge had been like walking into a wall of sound. A bubbling cauldron of light, noise, energetic siblings and fussing Grandma and it had been overwhelming to his senses. Alan had rushed at him, almost bowling him over in his exuberance and it had caught him off guard. He'd flinched at the sudden impact of a hard, round head connecting with his sternum and Alan had noticed, they had all noticed. 

Alan had apologised and John had assured him that it was fine, he just needed a little warning next time, but next time had never come. He didn't know why, but after that no one had touched him unless he reached out first and he had to admit that he didn't do it often enough. He just didn't think about it, he wasn't used to including others in his daily life. He never reached out because usually he had no one to reach out too. 

Sometimes they would forget this unspoken rule that they had implemented without his knowledge and would sling an arm around his shoulders or nudge him with an elbow but they always caught themselves, jerking away as if contact with him burnt and backing off without his say so. It made things awkward for him, like they didn't know how to act around him and in turn it made it so he didn't know how to be with them. 

Everyone tiptoed around him, like he was a stray dog that had to be left alone in case they scared him off. Like if they came near him he'd run away. 

His social anxiety would nag at him, telling him that he was making them uncomfortable, that he was in the way, even though he knew in his heart that it wasn't true. They loved him, he loved them, but it had become easier to stay away, for all of them to make excuses for his absence. 

That was until she came into his life. She was his complete opposite, where he would wait to be invited into someone's personal space, she shoved her way in and set up camp. Where he was tentative and shy she was bold and confident. 

She hadn’t seen him as someone to be pitied or coddled, she hadn’t seen him as someone who wanted to be left alone, she had just seen him as someone she wanted to be close to, so she would be no matter how long that took. 

Initially he'd been on edge, his very rusty social skills, his extended periods of alone time, combined with his family's reluctance to get too close to him had left him with what amounted to a mental barrier between himself and reaching out to people. What if they rejected him like they thought he did with them? What if she was just being friendly and didn’t actually want him that way at all? The thoughts running through his head had been loud and obnoxious, drowning out all rational thought, urging him to stay away and forget about her. And he’d listened to it, done as it bid. Until she had stepped in.

She'd been different, she'd respected his boundaries, been aware of his reactions but instead of backing away and waiting for him to ask, she'd offered herself first. 

That had been the difference, she'd offered affection, she'd given him permission to reach out without words and had done it all without making it into a big deal. Because she'd never known him any other way. And that in itself had been refreshing. 

He'd had to shift his perspective, had to learn to relax, to open up and accept someone into his heart. After years of being left alone here was someone that very much wanted him close and wanted to be close in return. 

There had been a steep learning curve to letting someone as chaotic as her into his carefully controlled life but if anything her ability to never take things personally and to not give a single fuck had been a blessing. He'd quickly learnt that he could say absolutely anything and she would never think the worst of him, she had endless patience and for all her high maintenance ways, a calming energy he was drawn to. 

She’d treated him like he was normal, not like he was made of glass that would break any second and he'd responded to it without thinking. She’d touched him unconsciously, a brush of her hand, an arm draped over his as she cuddled against his side watching a movie, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder and he'd done the same. He'd look down and find that his fingers were caressing the soft skin of her wrist, his fingers playing with hers, his hand landing on her knee as naturally as if he'd been doing it forever. And his brothers had watched, watched and smiled. 

The shift had been subtle, so subtle he hadn't been sure at first, but she'd somehow managed to bridge the gap between him and his family that he hadn't even realised had widened that much.

When she sat next to him the others took it as permission to do the same. When she slid her arm around his waist it gave the others a chance to see that he was fine with it, meaning they followed her lead and draped a casual arm around his shoulders without worrying he'd flinch away. 

His brothers had been shocked the first time they had seen her throw herself into his arms after a tough night but that had opened the door for Alan to do the same and John had hugged his baby brother tightly for the first time in years. He was taller, stronger and slightly smellier than he had been the last time it had happened, but he was still the same boy he'd introduced to the wonders of the night sky and rocked as he cried. It had been so incredibly welcome. 

It's strange what you could grow accustomed to given enough time but he hadn't realised how much he had missed that simple closeness until he had it again. How much he’d missed a casual hand on his arm in the place of words, inquiring as to his well being, how much he’d missed the warm weight of a brother squashed beside him on the couch and was grateful to have it again.

His brothers had seemed more relaxed too, like they weren't worrying about him as much and that in turn allowed him to relax with them. They were still respectful of his personal space, giving him time to acclimatise to being home before they started mauling him, but that was fine by him. No one was on edge, no one was worrying that they would do the wrong thing, they had found a happy medium that had been lacking. It was nice and above all it was normal. 

She was free with her affections and treated his brothers the same way, hugging them, cuddling them, comforting them, loving them and they in turn loved her back. She'd unknowingly become the glue that had cemented him back into the family that he'd broken away from, fitting him back in as if he'd never been gone. 

They say that you shouldn't have to change yourself for love, but sometimes it happens for the better. A good relationship should allow you to grow in ways that benefit you not your partner. He’d never given it much thought before, other than believing it to be a load of sentimental, romantic rubbish, but he was happy to find that it was true.

The first time he'd reached out to touch for comfort had shocked him, for so long he'd not needed anyone, but it had been a long, hard day and she was there, all soft, warm and welcoming. Her hair had smelt like home, her head had fitted perfectly into the curve of his shoulder and she'd melted effortlessly in his arms. 

He'd held her, solid and dependable and the world had made sense again. He'd understood what he'd been missing, understood how touch didn't have to be something you endured but something to be enjoyed. 

Touch is a simple word, a simple gesture but it can convey so much.


	7. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for OlliePig for the prompt of Taste by Gumnut-Logic

If you were to ask anyone to describe Scott they would probably say the obvious, brave, handsome, energetic, decisive, fun but also serious. But if you were to ask his family they would say that Scott is ruled by his stomach. And he’d have to agree. You’d never know it to look at him, with his trim physique that’s bordering on skinny but his full on lifestyle and love of long runs around the Island did much to burn off all those extra calories.

The boys mother had been an amazing cook and she, much like her mother and grandmother before her, had shown her love by feeding her family. Every event, good and bad, was marked with a meal. Food can be a comfort, it can be a celebration, it can ease heartache and boost your happiness. Food isn’t just something to be partaken of when he remembers, like how John often saw it, but is a huge part of his life. It was just a shame that for a number of years there had rarely been good food on the table.

His grandmother tried, she cooked because she cared, because they were ‘growing boys’ and needed a good meal in them before and after a long day, food was your body's fuel and her medical background backed that up. She insisted on the best quality ingredients, in large quantities, but that was where her involvement should have ended.

They were all more than used to being served up some questionable dishes at every meal, the mind boggled at the many and varied ways she found to destroy even the simplest of recipes, but she tried, her heart was in the right place and that was all that mattered, even if her good intentions couldn’t chase the taste out of his mouth. Her cooking seemed to combine all the foulness of the food world in one the mass, so offensive to his taste buds that he had resorted to ordering bacon seasoning online just so he could sprinkle it over the worst of the burnt areas and have some hope of forcing down a few bites to appease his Grandma.

Scott considers himself a connoisseur of food, his pallet highly trained and honed from years of snagging meals on the go all around the world. 

For him there is a direct link from his taste buds to his brain, a simple bite of food and remembered taste can conjure up a memory so vivid it was like he was living it all over again. 

He remembered the first time he’d tried Guo Bao Rou, a sweet and sour pork dish from a little roadside stand on the outskirts of Harbin in northeast China. He’d switched One to autopilot and shovelled the delicious dish into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in a week. It had been a long day, an even longer rescue and there had been a few hairy moments that he preferred not to think about. But, as always, his brothers had worked with him as the perfect team and they had succeeded in saving the people that had been trapped after a small earthquake near Sun Island had destroyed a number of giant snow sculptures at the annual Snow Exhibition. Snow was never their friend, they were far too used to tropical climates and the memories of their mother and grandfather weren’t something they liked to dwell on if they could help it. But now Gordon and Virgil were on their way home and he was finally filling his belly, there had been no fatalities and it was a good day.

Each dish he’d tried held a memory, Cacio e pepe in Italy, Sauerkraut and Bratwurst in Germany, Fish and Chips in Scotland (and a deep fried Mars Bar), Ramen in Japan, Paella in Spain, Boeuf Bourguignon in France, Barramundi in Australia, Raclette in Switzerland and Poutine in Canada to name but a few. Scott had tasted them all and loved almost all of them.

He likes spicy food, food with strong flavours, he likes the way the heat dances across his tongue and makes his nose run. He likes interesting combinations, salty food with sweet like salty fries and a vanilla milkshake, he likes flavours that you wouldn't usually put together but that somehow worked, the stranger the better. Scott had always been a daring man and his love of food was no exception. 

He likes fruity desserts, loves the zesty tang of lemon and limes, the cool smoothness of coconut, the homely sweetness of apples and cinnamon.

His brothers always know his mood depending on the foods he reaches for. Ordinarily he likes his morning coffee dark and bitter so if he adds sugar or cream they know he’s had a bad night, haunted by nightmares that he needs to soothe away. 

If he pulls an apple pie of of the freezer for desert he’s in need of comfort, memories of their childhood in Kansas, of a crackling fire that they had no need of on the island, warm blankets and stories told by their father as they drank hot chocolate with little fluffy marshmallows floating on top. 

If he was loading up on salty, savoury snacks he was feeling chilled and was safe to approach, he might even share his beloved popcorn with you if you asked nicely enough. He’d lift an arm and drag in the closest brother and probably fall asleep halfway through a movie, his head on your shoulder, mouth wide open, snoring.

If he was tossing gummy bears into his mouth like they had offended his ancestors he was annoyed and in need of sweetening up, that was your cue to toss more candy at him and retreat to a safe distance and wait it out.

If he was drinking fruit juice or beer he was having a good day, if he was pouring himself a whiskey he was troubled and if he was drinking milk he was tired but refusing to go to bed.

His family are used to sharing their food with him, he likes to taste everything anyone else has just in case he’s missing out on something. Quick fingers will delve into your bag of crisps or your sweet bag and steal a handful before you even know he’s there. He’ll lean over your shoulder and snag a bite of your breakfast if you are distracted for even a second. He’ll blatantly grab a fork and stab a sausage off your plate and walk away with it. But you let him, because it’s Scott. 

Scott is an enigma, often seeming far too grown up and serious for his own good, too weighed down by the world and too stressed for life to ever be fair to him, but he does it all with minimal complaining, because one thing Scott is full of is love. Love for his family, love for his friends and love of good food.

Food is something that brings people together, something that conveys without words that you are loved and that people care for you. Scott and food go hand in hand and they wouldn’t want him any other way.


	8. Immortal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fic that came about after a hilarious conversation with some of my fellow fic writers and Co-conspiritors. I blame you all for the fact that I wrote this at stupid o'clock in the morning.

“Hi, Ebony, how’s the coffin this morning?”

Selene scowled over her coffee cup at the annoying beast that was Gordon. “Choose your words wisely, fish boy, I’ve barely had a sip yet.”

“Sorry, don’t get your fangs in a twist.”

Her eyes narrowed warningly and he wisely retreated. She nodded in satisfaction and took a long sip. Boys are weird, she had always known this. But couldn't he have picked a better time than seven thirty in the morning? Apparently not.

She had forgotten about his strange morning greeting by the time she’d had her second coffee and was so deeply engrossed in a dice reading that she didn’t notice Alan sneaking in until it was too late.

“So, when you and John get married, are you going to be a Tracy?”

“Huh?” she glanced up, having caught around ten percent of what he had said. “What was that, bub?”

“I asked if you were going to become a Tracy when you marry John…” he had moved closer to catch her attention but now he had taken a step back, “or are you going to stay as a Raven-Way?” He ran before she could fully take in what he had said, or throw something at him.

“Raven-what? What is going on with these idiots today?” 

“Not a clue,” Virgil shrugged.

“Well you’re no help,” she huffed, taking a picture of her dice spread and tucking them back in their bag, there was no way she’d be able to concentrate now that they had weirded her out. 

She found them both in the lounge reading something on a tablet and laughing. They looked innocent enough but she was wise to their ways and wasn't fooled for a second.

“Right, I want to know what the hell is going on, right now,” she had crossed her arms, her foot was tapping in annoyance and a wise man would recognise the signs and tread delicately. The boys were not wise, Gordon does not possess the ability to be delicate. Neither, it seems, did Alan.

“Nothing is going on,” Gordon promised, all wide eyed innocence.

“Don’t bullshit me boy.”

“All we asked was if you were keeping your own name. What’s wrong, was your morning blood not warm enough?”

“I’m a witch, not a vampire, dumb ass, surely you know that”?

“Are you in love with Draco?” Alan asked slyly.

“Draco?” she was instantly distracted, having a love of all things classic Harry Potter. “You know I’m a Draco fan, it was all his parent’s fault, he was a good boy under all that sass and bad parenting.”

“Maybe John will change his name to Draco as a wedding present,” Gordon grinned. "That would be perfect."

Selene’s narrowed eyes darted in his direction. It was a look that should have shrivelled him on the spot, but Gordon was immune, he was puffed up with some secret knowledge, some joke that she was not part of and it was pissing her off.

“She got up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning, didn’t she?” Gordon side whispered to Alan who sniggered.

“There is no coffin!” Selene screamed, getting thoroughly fed up. She turned on her heel and stomped out of the room before she gave in to the urge to kick one of them. Sure, she’d regret it later, because no matter how doofy and annoying they were, she did love them, but oh, it would be so satisfying.

There was only one person that could help her at that moment, the all knowing, all seeing one that she happened to call the love of her life.

“Johhhhn,” she whined the second his hologram popped up. “Your shitty little brothers are picking on me again.”

Ahh there was that eye roll that they all knew and secretly dreaded seeing.

“What have they done now?” he sounded slightly distracted but that wasn't unusual and she didn't hold it against him.

“They keep being weird and saying strange things to me that sound like insults but are really just stupid and I don’t understand it and they are pissing me off,” she ranted without taking a breath. 

It took John a second to mentally rewind the conversation enough for him to pick through her words in order to properly respond.

“They’re saying weird things? That’s not that unusual.”

“I know that! And if it was their usual kind of weird I wouldn’t be bothered.”

“What are they saying?”

“You have the same tone a mum does when one child is telling tales on another,” she accused. 

“No, I don’t, this is my normal tone.”

“So your normal tone is downtrodden soccer mum?”

“What did they say?” he asked again, ignoring her comment as he did almost all of the things she said.

Selene flopped back against the pillows on his side of the bed, having hidden in the bedroom to bitch about his brothers. She placed her comm down on the bedside table and reached for...yep, she had one of his planets again. She had bought him a small model of the solar system, which he loved, but each planet was made from a different crystal, which she loved. Jupiter was a tigers eye, Venus was an amethyst, Earth a pretty jade and so on. This time she had snagged the small red topaz that was Mercury and was rolling it between her fingers.

“First it was Gordon-”

“Naturally.”

“He said something about my coffin and fangs and he called me Ebony.”

John frowned. "That is weird. And not just Gordon weird. What else did they say?”

“Alan asked if I was going to take the Tracy name when we get married-” 

“Well we haven’t discussed it but it would but up to you obviously, you have built a reputation off your name after all.”

Selene smiled. There were no outdated marriage ideas for her man. That was one of the reasons she'd changed her mind about getting married, the fact that he wanted it as a commitment for them, not as a sign of ownership where she changed her name to his and gave up part of her identity. 

“You’re amazing, I love you.” 

“I love you too," he answered. He had no idea why she suddenly felt the need to say it but he wasn't going to complain. "But getting back to the original conversation, surely that kind of question wasn’t too strange?”

“No, the strange part was when he asked if I was keeping my maiden name of Raven-Way.”

John blinked. “Your what now?”

“Exactly. So I tracked them down and asked them what the fuck was going on-”

“Naturally.”

“There’s that tone again, babe.”

“There is no tone, you are imagining the tone, continue.”

“They asked if I loved Draco and suggested that you change your name as a wedding present. They also asked if my blood was too cold this morning.”

“They're up to something.”

“I know! Now find out what it is, that’s your job after all.”

“It’s actually not, I have a rather more important job than finding out everything they are doing.”

“They are your brothers, therefore it’s your job.”

John sighed the put upon sigh of the big brother that really wanted some peace and quiet.

“I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you.”

“And make sure you put Mercury back before Armstrong runs off with it again because you’ve left it on the bed.”

“That only happened three times…” his eyebrow raised. “Alright, five at the most. I’ll put it back, OK?” She plopped it gently back into its little holder close to the center and the large citrine that was the sun. “There, it’s back.”

“Thank you. I won’t be long.”

Selene had only managed to read two pages of her book before he was back.

“I think I’ve found the origins of their comments.”

“You have? Where? What is it? Did they tell you? Did they confess?”

“My tablet’s in my drawer, I sent the link there.”

"The link? Was it on the Internet? Are you telling me I could have just googled it?" 

"You could, yes."

Confused but also very curious she retrieved the tablet and easily bypassed his passwords and security, they had no secrets, and located the link.

“What the heck is this? You know I’m not really a fan of fan fiction.”

“Just read it, I’ll wait.”

***

“Are you alright?”

Selene stared dumbly at the screen, her mouth opening and shutting in horror.

“Sel?”

Her goldfish out of water impression continued.

“Selene? Are you broken?” She'd been staring into space for more than five minutes, having read the abomination, the utter abuse of the English language and anything that was considered good literature. 

“I’ll kill them,” Selene growled, breaking her silence. John breathed a sigh of relief, his woman was a little on the dramatic side but he hadn’t meant to fry her brain.

“Please don’t, can you be content to just hurt them a little.”

“Fine, but first I have to do something very important, I’ll see you later at dinner.”

“Okay, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yep, I’m fine,” she insisted as she swiped her comm off the side, slung it around her neck and left the room.

John’s hologram bounced along with her as she stalked down the halls to the lounge.

“Hey, Eb, what’s up?” Alan greeted her, earning himself a very rude hand gesture as she passed by without a word. John’s hologram raised the pointy finger of doom at him in warning, his expression clearly saying ‘look what you two have done, look what I’m dealing with now, sleep with one eye open’.

Selene went straight to the hangars and into her car.

“Where are you going?” John asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“You’ll see when I get back.”

***

“Ow!” Gordon yelped as he suddenly found himself the recipient of a smack around the back of his head from John as he passed behind the couch. 

John's hand lifted to give Alan the same treatment but the youngest Tracy was quicker and used a pillow as a shield.

“What were you two thinking? Do you have any idea how insulted she is? I’m going to be talking her down for a week.”

“Lighten up,” Gordon huffed, still rubbing the back of his head. 

“Yeah, it was just a joke,” Alan added in their defense. “We didn’t know she’d get insulted by it, we thought she’d laugh.”

“Did you, did you really?” John was not convinced.

“She’s going to kill us, isn’t she?” Alan asked, suddenly looking terrified.

“Probably, not that I’d blame her.”

“Where is she anyway?”

“I’ve no idea, she turned her comm off when she reached the mainland.”

“What would she be doing there?” Gordon pondered.

“Stocking up on knives?” Alan shuddered.

“Eh, I’m not too worried, you know she loves us, we’ll just say sorry and it’ll be fine.”

“What was that?” Alan jumped, hearing voices in the hall. “I think she's back.”

All three of them fell silent, leaning closer, straining their ears to hear the conversation.

“Honestly, I love it, it’s great,” Scott assured her.

“You promise? I don’t look weird? I’m still not sure about it, I don’t really feel like me yet.”

“I promise, you look great.”

“Is he home?”

“Got back about ten minutes ago, want me to get him?”

“Yes please.”

John was already on his feet before Scott entered the lounge, pausing to exchange a rather bemusing high five with Scott as his eldest brother tagged himself out of the situation.

John had no idea what to expect, in fact his mind had been conjuring up all sort of weird and not so wonderful scenarios of things that could greet him when she got home. Thankfully, out of all the things he had imagined, this was nowhere near as bad.

He stopped dead, his eyes taking in the sight before him. 

“Wow, that’s different.”

“Good different or bad different?” she asked, tucking her hair behind one ear in the most self conscious gesture John had ever seen from her.

“Good different, not that you looked bad before,” he hurried to add, worried that she might still be pissed off.

“You sure?”

“I’m very sure,” he promised her. “Come here, let me see properly.”

She stepped closer allowing him to study her from all angles. Her hair had had a trim, losing about an inch and tidying up the slightly feathery layers that had been growing out, giving it a sleeker and more grown up look. It flowed down over her shoulders in a silken wave, as straight as a ruler. But most surprising of all was the colour. Her hair was now a deep, dark plum colour all over, the black with lilac streaks a thing of the past.

“I figured I needed a change, you know.”

“You didn’t have to do this, not because of those idiots.” His fingers tunneled into the soft strands, feeling the same heavy weight that he was used to as well as the smooth softness. He twirled a small section around his finger, caressing it with his thumb. He liked it, it suited her. 

She shrugged. “I know I was annoyed at first but now I kinda like it. I’ve had that hair for a long time, I guess it was a bit of a statement at first, it made me feel more like me, like I was being true to myself and I just never had the guts to change it after that.”

“You didn’t have the guts? I find that hard to believe.”

“I just worried that if the hair went, I’d lose a little part of myself too, the part that I’ve been fighting for for a long time. I felt like I finally loved myself, the hair was part of that.”

“So why change it? Not that I don't like it, it's lovely, it's very you. It suits you.”

“Because I realised something today and that knowledge let me know that it was time to leave the comfort blanket behind, because I have something more important than hair colour.”

“You do?”

“Yep,” she caught his free hand and tugged him closer, lifting her head for a kiss. “I’ve got you and I know you’ll love me enough for the both of us if I ever have a wobble.”

“I can definitely do that," he smiled, unable to resist stealing another quick kiss. It was going to take some getting used to, he'd never known her with any other colour hair, but it wouldn't be a hardship, she looked as lovely as ever to him, in fact, if pushed he'd say even more beautiful than she had before, something he wouldn't have believed was even possible.

“Good.”

“So, in a roundabout way, Gordon and Alan actually did something good?”

“Yes, I’ll admit that a little good did come out of it.”

“So you’ll go and put them out of their misery?”

“Hell no, I’m gonna make the little shits suffer for at least a week. How dare they compare me to Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way.”


	9. Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little thing that was done for Gumnut Logics senses challenge.

Every family is different, especially one as big as theirs. Every one of his siblings were unique in their own way, some of them complimented the others, some of them clashed, but each had their own place within the family dynamic, somewhere that they fitted in, that gave something to the household and they each brought something different to the table. 

Alan brought the smiles and enthusiasm, Gordon brought the laughter (and often the frustration), John brought the calmness and logic that was often needed and Scott brought the confidence and drive to succeed. Virgil himself brought the comfort, provided the loving arms to hug away the strain of a bad day and the open heart to allow them to come to him with their problems and know that he would do everything he could to fix them.

Everyone had their areas of expertise but for him it was sound. He lived for it, he dreamt of it, he heard things that others often ignored. Where you could tell Scott’s mood by his food choices, so Virgil could tell their moods by the sounds they made or those they chose to listen to. They were a musical family overall, but he was the most musically driven of all.

Gordon could play guitar quite well and was passable on the piano but had never pursued it, he liked guitar because it was cool, it was portable and he’d been known to take one along with him to parties when he wanted a little attention. He didn’t play often, never really taking the time to sit down and relax with it, but if one was lying around he’d pick it up and strum a few cords, maybe sing a little if he was in the mood.

Alan was a noisier person, he liked the idea of drums (as did Scott) but Grandma had banned the purchase of them, though Alan did have a silent kit he used with headphones. Alan found the piano too tame but he liked the guitar and was learning from Gordon.

Scott played piano and guitar almost as well as Virgil did, but he wasn’t as passionate about it, music for Scott served a purpose, he played Chopin when he was worried and usually strayed into Jazz territory when he was relaxed or would strum out a little classic rock. 

Gordon likes heavy music, things that can’t be played on just a piano or one guitar. He likes booming bass lines and a fast pace, he likes to bounce and scream and make his presence known.

John is an enigma in many ways, Selene could testify to that. John likes peace, John likes quiet, but he likes it on his own terms. He likes soft music, often classical like Virgil himself, and he likes it just loud enough to hear if you strain your ears but not loud enough to distract him. He’s used to the constant low level buzz of conversation from a million radio waves in hundreds of different languages as a background to his life, so when there’s silence he feels unable to settle, uneasy. Virgil knows that John often tunes the comms in to listen to Virgil play in the evening when he’s up in Five on his own. Selene is used to falling asleep with the soft strains of Vivali or Greig as a backdrop to their bedroom.

Virgil hears the world differently to others. They might enjoy music, they might notice the sounds of the Island if they really listen, if they pay attention, but he hears everything. Their little Island paradise has its own beating heart to the land. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks makes a different sound to the softer lapping at the sand on the beach. The sand sounds different underfoot than the more ashy, crunchy earth formed from years of activity from the now long extinct volcano. The trees either swish softly or they bluster depending on the wind that whips at them, the same wind that will echo around the hangars if you left the cliff entrance open.

The house itself has a subtle symphony to it, the whisper of voices in the distance, the sound of footsteps, the odd burst of laughter or indignant yelling or the sound of machinery and digital beeps and pings whenever Brains or MAX were around. 

Virgil is used to listening to everything and anything, he notices the subtle things that no one else seems to hear. He can vividly recall trying to explain how he heard the world differently to how everyone else did, how he could be easily distracted by a noise in the background and how his brain would fixate on it until it was all he could hear. No one else had understood him, they thought he was strange, that he just wasn't listening to them or was in his own world. He wasn't; he was just listening to it differently than they were.

He was invaluable on a rescue, his highly tuned ears could pick up the most subtle of variants to the ambience of the area. Within a minute of arriving he would have registered and catalogued the sounds that surrounded them, be it natural or man made. He’d identify them and file them away in his mind and then get on with the job in hand, but his ears would always be on the hunt for something new. He’d predicted aftershocks before EOS had, he’d heard the subtle twisting of metal before a beam collapsed, the pitter patter of falling stones that heralded a rock slide, he heard it all. They had all lost count of the times he had shoved them out of the way of a falling rock, a piece of wood intent on clobbering them over the head or issued a quick warning to move their craft. Virgil was their personal early warning system that they wouldn't be without. 

He could identify any of his siblings just by the sound of their breathing in his comm, he was used to tuning out everything else in order to focus on them. He could tell their mood by the sound of their footsteps or their little habits. Scott cracked his knuckles when he was annoyed, Alan drummed his hands on his thighs when he was feeling impatient or bored, Gordon tapped his foot and John had a habit of wiggling or drumming his fingers when he was feeling frustrated or distracted by a problem. Virgil knew and recognised all of this.

He was comfortable with his place in the family and confident in his ability to use his talents to make things better. To him, sound wasn’t just for listening to, it was for creating and he was a master at it.Virgil knew the value of soothing music after a long day, upbeat when someone needed cheering up, peaceful when they were tired and happy when the day had been a good one.

He was the one that would provide those sounds, the one to accurately diagnose their feelings and play that which they needed the most. Virgil never judged. Virgil never made everything about him, Virgil was a steady presence in their lives, often in the background but a vital part of the family all the same. 

Good days, bad days, late night, early mornings, nightmares and happy memories, Virgil was there for it all and he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	10. John always listens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little thing that came about after a conversation with a friend where I said John is the best person to talk to.

They say it's good to talk, that it's good to open up and let out the hurt rather than let it fester. It's a well known fact that talking about your problems can make you feel lighter, the unburdening of your soul to another person can help even if you never solve the problem, just knowing that someone is there and that they care enough to listen is often enough. 

Selene is known for dragging people aside and forcing them to talk to her. They rely on her to bring the comfort and understanding that they need, to know they are not alone, that they are loved and that they are valued, but the one they really open up to is John. And he can never understand why. 

Selene is different, she is floaty and bohemian, spiritual and sympathetic, she exudes comfort and warmth, bringing with her a hug and a kindness that they so often need. 

John is spiritual and serene in his own way, John is calm and the one most likely to have them talk to him without even meaning to. 

The thing about humans is that we have an inbuilt need to support and empathise, we want to show that we care and that we understand. And we do this by sharing our own experiences, the things we've been through, the way we have felt, to prove that we know what you are feeling, because we've been there. 

Think about the last time someone came to you with a problem, the conversation would have started with them talking about their issue, you will have felt sorry for them, or felt like you wanted to help. They looked lonely and sad and you wanted to take that pain away. So you reached deep down inside of yourself and you drew out that little part of you that you kept locked away, that little part that has the same experience as them, and you offer it, you offer them that knowledge that you have been there too. This will help, you think, they will know you understand so they will be able to come to me to talk, because I will get them, I will truly get them as only someone who has been through it can. 

The problem with this, nice as it is to know you aren't alone, is that it turns into a conversation, it turns into a back and forth, which will inevitably twist and turn, taking a different path from the original point, as all conversations do. It will lose the original reason for them talking and they will enviably stop sharing, stop opening up because they now have something else to focus on, you. 

To truly open up one needs silence. One needs to be able to talk and talk until they are exhausted, until they have run out of words, they do not need to be feeling low and then have to gather the courage to open up enough to talk and then have to find the energy and compassion to support the person they have chosen to open up to as well as themselves. 

They do not need to have their confidant come back with an equally traumatic story or one that is even worse, which will make them feel like they have no right to be complaining or feeling so down. Sometimes, by sharing your own story you are invalidating theirs, you are saying, yes, your story is sad, but here is mine, and mine is just as bad. You have taken the attention away from them, you have stopped their flow, you have given them time to think, time to worry that they sound silly, that you are judging them because their problems seem paltry in comparison and you have given them time to clam up. 

John is known as the voice that answers, but to those who find themselves opening up to him, he's also the voice that listens. John doesn't share of himself easily, he doesn't volunteer information, he doesn't play the one upmanship game, the my trauma is the same as your trauma. He simply listens. 

John knows it's rude to interrupt, he knows that people will ask for help if they need it (that's the foundation of his job after all) John knows that sometimes all people need is to purge their soul to a stranger, to someone who will let their words pour out, let them gain momentum, let them cry, let them rage, let them reach their lowest point, until they are all talked out and he lets them get there on their own. He doesn't push and prod, he doesn't ask questions that could dictate the direction of their thoughts, he doesn't turn their attention, he let's them say all they need to say without his interference. 

Because if John knows anything, it's that humans have an inbuilt drive to survive, they will fall as far as they can until they reach rock bottom and then they will pick themselves up again, they will start to climb out of that hole on their own. You can offer help, you can offer solutions, but they have to reach that point first. 

There is nothing as therapeutic as talking until you run out of words, crying until your tears have ceased to fall, until you start to talk yourself out of your down moment. And that's when he'll ask one simple question, what help do you require? 

Often they don't need any at all, they just needed to unload, they just needed to talk away from the pressures of life and family, work and responsibilities. Sometimes they will pause, not knowing what they actually need or what could make it better. That's when most people would dive in with suggestions, with offers of help and will overwhelm you into making a choice, into picking something that might not be the right thing. John doesn't push, he doesn't suggest, he waits, he listens. 

They will tell him how they want to fix things, what they want in life, what they need help with, and he will arrange that, that's what he's good at, finding the information and getting the help where it is most needed. 

But often he doesn't need to do anything at all, the answer will be "I don't need anything, I just needed to talk." 

In talking you arrange your thoughts in a manner that you can deal with, you gather up all the scattered worries, pain and memories and you start to catalogue them, to file them away into important and not so important. 

John doesn't know why people open up to him so much, because he never sees himself as anyone particularly special. All he does is let them talk, unguarded, unchecked, unencumbered by his input. If someone needs to talk, he lets them do it. Because that's his job, to listen, and John takes his job very seriously. 

We are resilient, we are human, we fight. 

And John knows that.


	11. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this for the Sensory Sunday challenge.

Witches rely on their senses more than anything else. Witches see the world differently to other people, they see, they feel on a different level. They feel, they notice, they pay attention. A big part of their gifts, the magic that they weave is linked to their senses, it’s linked to the conjuring up of energy which they shape, they mould to push out towards their goal. The real power lies within the heart of the witch, not in the tools, not in the elaborate rituals, not in the clothes or the magic words, but in their very essence.

For Selene her sense of smell is second to none, as finely tuned as a bloodhound's. She could identify herbs in a jar by smell while blindfolded, she was more likely to be roused from sleep by the scent of coffee than an alarm call.

Scents can be pleasant, energising, calming, comforting, arousing, alluring, insulting, horrendous, vile and nauseatingly horrible. They are many and varied but each and every one serves a purpose to her.

To her everything had a smell that was unique to it, things, people, places, they all had a scent she associated with them and they could affect her mood and her energy in both positive and negative ways.

She loved the smell of old books, they relaxed her, calmed her as she flicked through the dusty pages and felt the paper crinkle beneath her fingers. Incense was something she used every morning and evening, setting the tone for the day or helping her wind down after a hard night, lavender, rosemary, sage, nag champa, patchouli, fruits and herbs, she loved them all. The smell of baking cakes and bubbling soups could invoke calming memories of her Grandparents, the smell of the sea made her senses tingle, energising and empowering her. She was ruled by her nose as much as Scott was ruled by his stomach.

One of the first things she had noticed about her John, apart from that voice that just rubbed against her senses like a purring cat, was how he smelt. He smelt like the night, like the sky, like stardust and moonlight, all combined with a soft, calming scent of some kind of aftershave or shower gel that she couldn't identify but immediately wanted to buy shares in. She’d buried her nose in that little dip just below his ear and breathed him in, her eyes closing in pure bliss. That scent conjured up memories of late nights in quiet woodlands or on a solitary hilltop, the full moon shining in the sky. 

Whenever she inhaled that scent she imagined that if she tipped her head back she’d see a blanket of stars twinkling up high, pinpricks of light in the darkness, as sure and everlasting as the earth itself. That was where she was most happy, soaking up the energy, soaking up the magic that danced in the air and he was the human embodiment of that. 

She’d known from that first moment that he would be important to her, that he was destined to be in her life and to make it so much better.

She’d sat in the back of a massive craft, overwhelmed, dizzy and weak, she was shaking from adrenaline and fatigue, the gorgeous spaceman that smelt of everything that was good in the world wasn’t there anymore and for the first time in a very long time she felt vulnerable and just wanted to be at home.

She'd closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths in an effort to calm down and stave off the panic attack that had been threatening since she had been thrown into that blasted tree. The big machine smelt like any other mechanical device, like hot metal, grease and for some strange reason, undertones of cheeseburger. But then, mixed in amongst those nose offending scents had been the boys, comforting and friendly to her nose.

Gordon always smelt like chlorine and saltwater, which was hardly surprising given that it was him, but he also carried the warmth of sunshine on him like it was ingrained in his skin along with something tropical, almost coconutty. He gave off a happy, buzzing energy that you just couldn’t help but be drawn to, cheering you up in your darkest moments.

Virgil was a contradiction of smells wrapped up in a big, cuddly bear package. He smelt like engine oil, turpentine, paint and all sorts of manly smells, but he too had undertones of something more. He smelt of woodland forest and the earth after it rains, something fresh and natural that soothed her soul. She could imagine that he would be the very best person to send to anyone that was panicked and scared, anyone that was in need of calmness and comfort.

He’d spoken to her so kindly, had made sure she was OK and had been respectful of her tools even though he probably thought she was crazy. He looked like he should be gulping beer and watching football but had settled in his seat and lifted the big machine into the air with the bare minimum of effort. He’d checked on her one more time and then politely inquired if she minded them listening to some music. Of course she’d said no, thinking that music might be a nice distraction for her. She’d expected something with a hard beat, or energetic workout music because no one got those size shoulders without hitting some serious weights. The last thing she’d ever thought to hear oozing out of the hidden speakers of his console was the soft strains of Vivaldi. 

It was Virgil and Gordon that knew her secret and had been sworn to secrecy, it was them that knew the big, tough witchy had one very real fear, a fear that could paralyse her and turn her into a blubbing, sobbing, shaking wreck. She was terrified of needles. It was Gordon and Virgil that she had grabbed hold of at the hospital for her tetanus shot and refused to let go of, it was them that had stayed with her the entire time. It was Gordon that had distracted her with an endless stream of stupid jokes as the doctor had readied the syringe and it was Virgil that had wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head in against his chest telling her not to look and that it would be over in just two seconds. Virgil that smelt like comfort and kindness, Gordon that smelt like warmth and cheer. They had navigated her fears, calmed her hysterics and not held it against her when she had sworn at them more times than she could count.

Scott had two layers to his own unique scent. He had the freshly washed, impeccably groomed, shower gel, antiperspirant, spicy cologne and hair gel of first thing in the morning and by evening, after a rescue he’d have the chemical tang of jetpack fuel, and his skin smells slightly of the material used in their uniforms with just a hint of sweat that the material hadn’t managed to soak up.

She remembered the first time she had caught a wiff of that unique Scott smell and had an inkling as to the man that was standing before her. He’d been watching out for her all night, joking and being the perfect companion but the second he’d gotten her alone had been the moment he’d made his stance perfectly clear, hurt my brother and you’ll have to deal with me. She wouldn’t say he’d radiated hostility, more of a warning, letting her know that family was everything to him. Luckily she’d passed the Scott test.

Scott had quickly become one of the most important people in her life, one that she was closest to. He was an immovable force of nature, a solid, dependable, strong presence in her life that she couldn’t do without now. Scott was strength, Scott was the protector, the one that everyone deferred to to fix everything, even when it seemed impossible. Scott gave off an aura of carefully controlled energy but with an edge of hardness that he never showed to his family only to the people that really pissed him off.

Kayo smelt almost the same as Scott in that high octane way, she didn’t wear perfume, she didn’t bother with fancy hair products or highly fragranced antiperspirants, she was a simple one, a wash and go type. Her hair always smelt of shampoo, her skin often had the same residue of jet fuel and uniform material and she had the same idiot repelling energy as Scott though she was harder to get close enough to to feel it.

Then there was Alan, gods she adored that boy more than life. She remembered the first time she’d hugged him, having known him less than four hours, having watched him fear for his brother's life but still be so brave about it. He smelt soft and warm, with a sweetness like a hint of chocolate under the usual teenager smell. He smelt faintly of soap, but it had faded over the course of the day, maybe two, since he’d showered. He had the same sunny warmth that Gordon had, with a buzzing energy of pure happiness. He was adorable and she just wanted to keep hugging him, like he made the world better just by being in it.

Everywhere she had walked in the Villa had held faint traces of their unique scents apart from John’s unless you were in his room or he’d recently vacated the couch. But it had smelt homely, welcoming, comforting, that was until Grandma started cooking and the smell of burning spices permeated the air. 

Grandma smelt comforting, like flowers and cookies even though her baking could count as a nuclear disaster. Her ever present leisure suits smelt like washing powder and fresh air as she often insisted on drying clothes outside after she blew up a dryer. Her hair smelt of the same hairspray that Selene's own grandmother had used and the same lily of the valley perfume was liberally spritzed about her person. In short she smelt like love in a way that only Grandmas could.

The air of the island itself was unique, it mixed the fresh ocean air with the damp coolness of jungle plants, along with the earthy, ashy smell of the volcanic rocks. It was a smell that was hard to describe but even harder to forget once you knew it.

For her there was nothing better than walking into a room and catching the scent of moonlight and stardust in the air, that tingling of energy that signaled her love was home. 

She was now used to there being an unlimited supply of hugs, warm bodies to relax against, heavy arms slung around her shoulders and the comforting scents of the people she loved more than anything. Any time she needed strength, energy, happiness, calming or love she'd focus on them, she'd smell them on the air, she'd breathe them deep into her lungs and she'd hold them close to her heart, weaving that love into her own unique magical essence to conjure up the most powerful of magic. 

To Selene home had always smelt like the lingering scent of incense, coffee, warm candle wax and burning sage. She was a witch, it came with the territory, but now the thought of home was mixed in with the island and all the family that came with it.


	12. Talk to me like one of your French girls.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was born from two prompts. It went a little wild, slight adult themes but you expect that with me already.

"Rotzlöffel!" 

Selene paused, the wagging finger of doom pointing right at his chest. "What did you just call- don't yell at me in languages I don't understand!" 

"Well don't be one then!" 

"Don't be a what? What did you just call me?" her eyes narrowed dangerously. 

He had two choices, stand his ground or retreat and try to make things better, but if there was one thing he'd learned from spending almost two years of his life with a mad witch, it was to never back down. 

He squared his shoulders, looked her dead in the eye and answered her honestly. "A snot spoon."

She blinked. "A what now?" 

"It's loosely translated…" he waved his hand vaguely. 

"And it means?" 

"A brat."

"You just called me a brat?" 

"Yes."

"Well don't do that!" 

"Don't act like one then!" 

She bit her lip, trying very hard not to laugh. She failed. 

"A snot spoon? Seriously? That's what you came up with?" 

"Alan never knew what it meant either."

"You're an idiot."

"An idiot that you love," he shot back, an evil grin beginning to form. 

"Urghhh," she stopped pacing and flopped backwards onto the bed. "When did we move from arguments that turn to kissing to arguments that turn into childish insults?" 

"Around three table decorations and a cake ago."

She raised a hand. "I would like to put in a formal request to go back to the former, thank you."

John caught hold of her hand, lacing their fingers. "That could be arranged," he squeezed her fingers lightly. "But, you did just call me an idiot."

"My idiot," she tugged on his hand, pulling him down on top of her. "So, kisses?" 

"Kisses are good."

They both moved closer, moving instinctively from much practice. Their lips met, softly at first, little warm up kisses that were sweet rather than sensual. 

Her tongue dabbed softly at his lips, trying to tempt him to open and allow her to deepen their kiss. 

She moaned happily, letting her hands get in on the action, one travelling the length of his spine, nails scraping lightly through the fabric of his shirt, the other journeying upwards to tangle in his hair. 

Their kiss deepened, lazy kisses, taking their time, just enjoying a rare moment to be alone together. Selene could feel her heart speeding up and her breath becoming a little ragged as the fluttering butterflies of arousal began to multiply from their ever present "damn my guy's hot" to "gotta have him now."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for shouting at you in German?" 

"That depends."

"On what?" 

"On how else you're going to use those hot language skills of yours." She kissed her way to his jaw. 

"Does my lady have any requests?" 

"Dealer's choice, I just like listening to you. Surprise me."

"Mm, I'm sure I can come up with something." He turned his head to capture her lips again. 

Using her grip on his hair she broke their kiss, stopping to rub her nose against his. 

"Talk to me," she pleaded in her most seductive voice and he was powerless to resist. 

He broke away to kiss his way down her neck, nipping lightly here and there, nuzzling her soft skin. He worked his way up to her ear as one of her hands found its way under his shirt to stroke bare skin. Well, that wasn't helping, was it? How was he supposed to concentrate while she was doing that? 

Her legs lifted, wrapping around his waist to pull him closer so she could feel his hard length through his jeans. 

"Tell me what you want," she encouraged, her own lips attacking the side of his neck. That was not playing fair. 

Thoroughly enjoying her current mood and in no way wanting to jeopardize that he said the first thing that came to mind although it was cheesy as hell. 

"Est-ce que ton père a été un voleur? Parce qu’il a volé les étoiles du ciel pour les mettre dans tes yeux." 

She purred a low moan in his ear and he filed that information away for later, how to stop an argument, grab her, kiss her, whisper in french, got it. 

"Je te trouve belle." 

Her fingers had got to work on the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly, pushing the material off his shoulders. 

Huh, they were now at the stripping part of the proceedings, he was down with that. Luckily for him she was wearing one of her black blouses today, this one decorated with a fine covering of silver spider web, not that he was paying much attention to the intricacies of the design right at that moment. 

He popped open the first two buttons and lowered his head to kiss a path down her neck, pausing to suck lightly on her collarbone. Her shuddering moan was accompanied by a seductive hip roll that almost made his eyes cross. This wasn't good, she shouldn't have told him to say what he wanted. Quick, he instructed himself, think of something else! 

"Mélanger les jaunes d’œufs avec la moutarde, le sel et le poivre dans un saladier." 

Her back arched, thrusting her still caged breast closer. 

"Ajouter tout doucement et peu à peu l’huile sur le mélange en battant au fouet." 

Her fingers played with the shorter hairs on the back of his neck, nails scraping lightly at his skin. 

Honestly, when she had started the day with a full list of shit she didn't care about but Grandma insisted was important, she had questioned the wiseness of dragging her Spaceman home. Especially when it had disintegrated into her tossing his carefully crafted list into the trash and refusing to make another decision again. But now that she'd seen how they could resolve an argument she might be tempted to start one daily. 

One of the things she loved most about her man was how he could be so incredibly sexy without even knowing it, there was no big headedness from John that would make him insufferably smug like some men she knew. 

She loved his voice, it was the first thing she had fallen for, wanting to be closer to him before she had even seen his face and she always found it incredibly hot when he would casually drop into another language like it required no more effort than blinking. 

This was doing all kinds of good things to rev her engine and if he wasn't careful she'd be forced to roll him over and have her wicked way with him before he knew what was going on. 

"Remplir les avocats avec des crevettes et les recouvrir de sauce cocktail." 

She stiffened as the tip of his tongue traced the lacy edge of her bra but she was far too distracted to pay much attention. Had he…

"Dude, did you just say cocktail sauce?" She didn't know much French, in fact she was limited to a couple of cheeses, bread, chicken and French fries, she was very food based, but she had definitely heard that before. 

He froze for a second then sighed, his head dropping to bury his face in her neck. 

"Sorry."

She didn't know whether she should laugh or cry although as usual, laughing won. 

She began to giggle, unable to hold it in. 

He lifted his head to look at her, completely bemused. 

"What the hell were you even saying?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, both from the sudden shift in position as well as the metaphorical bucket of cold water that had been dumped on top of them. 

"Well, at first I was complimenting your eyes, but then I had to think of something a little less exciting and I skipped breakfast -" 

"And lunch knowing you."

"Maybe…"

"And so you were saying…"

"I may have been telling you how to make a shrimp and avocado salad." 

To his intense relief her giggles turned into full laughter which he couldn't help but join in with. 

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight, struggling to breathe but not for the reasons they had first been planning. 

"Gods, I love you," she gasped, trying to catch her breath and not crack up laughing again. She kissed his cheek and let go, pushing him gently to the side. 

She sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes and buttoned her blouse back up. 

"Sorry, that kinda killed the mood," he winced. 

"Rubbish, if we can't laugh then there's no hope for us, it's laughter and love that keeps a couple strong and we've got that in abundance."

She held out her hand to him, dragging him to his feet. 

"Back to the list?" he sighed. 

"Hell no, we're going to the kitchen." She reached out to give his firm abs a loving pat. "I'm gonna fuel my sex machine and then take full advantage of you being home for the rest fo the night."

"Sex Machine?" he arched a disbelieving eyebrow as he fastened his shirt. 

She shrugged, unrepentant. "Meh, I thought it'd try it, it obviously didn't work." She sighed dramatically. "Most men would be grateful their girl thinks they are a stud." 

"Good thing I'm not most men then, because that was a terrible line," he followed her to the door. 

"This is coming from the guy that just told my boobs how to cut a cucumber."


End file.
